My little Mother, you will understand how this evening the vessel of God’s Mercy has overflowed for your child. . . . Even now I know it!  Yea, all my hopes will be fulfilled . . .

VERILY THE LORD WILL WORK WONDERS FOR ME, AND THEY WILL INFINITELY SURPASS MY BOUNDLESS DESIRES. _____________________________

[1] Soeur Therese here alludes to the probable opinion of theologians that—­as in Baptism—­all stain of sin is removed and all temporal punishment for sin remitted, by the vows taken on the day of religious profession. [Ed.]

[2] John 8:10.

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LETTERS TO SISTER MARY OF THE SACRED HEART

I

February 21, 1888.

MY DEAR MARIE,—­You cannot think what a lovely present Papa made me last week; I believe if I gave you a hundred or even a thousand guesses you would never find out what it was.  Well, my dear Father bought me a new-born lamb, all white and fleecy.  He said that before I entered the Carmel he wanted me to have this pleasure.  We were all delighted, especially Celine.  What touched me more than anything was Papa’s thoughtfulness.  Besides, a lamb is symbolic, and it made me think of Pauline.

So far, so good, but now for the sequel.  We were already building castles in the air, and expected that in two or three days the lamb would be frisking round us.  But the pretty creature died that same afternoon.  Poor little thing, scarcely was it born when it suffered and died.  It looked so gentle and innocent that Celine made a sketch of it, and then we laid it in a grave dug by Papa.  It appeared to be asleep.  I did not want the earth to be its covering, so we put snow upon our pet, and all was over.

You do not know, dearest Godmother, how this little creature’s death has made me reflect.  Clearly we must not become attached to anything, no matter how innocent, because it will slip from our grasp when least expected; nothing but the eternal can content us.

II

(Written during her retreat before receiving the habit.)

January 8, 1889.

Your little Lamb—­as you love to call me, dearest sister—­would borrow from you some strength and courage.  I cannot speak to Our Lord, and He is silent too.  Pray that my retreat may be pleasing to the Heart of Him Who alone reads the secrets of the soul.

Life is full of sacrifice, it is true, but why seek happiness here?  For life is but “a night to be spent in a wretched inn,” as our holy Mother St. Teresa says.  I assure you my heart thirsts ardently for happiness, but I see clearly that no creature can quench that thirst.  On the contrary, the oftener I would drink from these seductive waters the more burning will my thirst become.  I know a source where “they that drink shall yet thirst,"[1] but with a delicious thirst, a thirst one can always allay. . . .  That source is the suffering known to Jesus only.